


And In The End

by Edoraslass, just_ann_now



Series: Two Heirs [5]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Humor, M/M, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-01-17 02:48:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 3,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1371169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edoraslass/pseuds/Edoraslass, https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_ann_now/pseuds/just_ann_now
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You already know how their story ends. Last meetings, portents, heroism, love beyond death. </p><p>Not a traditional chaptered story but a collection of drabbles, ficlets, and vignettes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Asunder

**Asunder** , by just_ann_now

“Are you sure you don’t want those piglets? Their mother was a prizewinner at the Spring Fair,” Théo chuckled as Boromir waved away his prize, having traded it for a keg of raspberry ale he remembered fondly from another summer’s visit. 

Boromir had arrived in Edoras in the midst of a festival, Lady Éowyn's birthday, doubly celebrated as a respite from the late summer labors. Worn as he was from long travel, he would have welcomed nothing so much as a hot bath and a soft bed, but he quickly saw that those pleasures would have to wait just a bit longer. After a long cold draught to dampen his parched throat, he cheerfully participated in several contests, wrestling and archery and spear-tossing, losing enough to be a good sport, winning enough to be cheered wholeheartedly.

Afterwards it was comforting just to sit and watch the good folk of Rohan, merry under the clear blue sky. _Why should they not put away their burdens for a day while they can? There will be time enough later for grief and fear,_ Boromir thought, then felt Théodred's keen eyes upon him. He tried to smile. 

“Come, my friend,” Théo pulled him to his feet. “I know you well enough to know your desires.” Two members of his _éored_ , seated nearby, snickered; he glared back at them in mock reproach. “We’ll have a bite to eat after your bath – I’m sure it will taste better when you’re smelling the food, and not yourself. What brings you here, and alone?” His easy small talk as they walked allowed Boromir the opportunity to share the barest details of his journey, but he could sense Theo's understanding that there was much more to tell. 

Alone in the bathhouse, they were once again the hungry, eager boys of twenty years ago. Boromir leaned against the wall, his calloused fingers tangled in Théo’s hair, unable to contain his hoarse cries of pleasure. _It has been so long, so long,_ he thought to himself, until all coherent thought was gone. Then Théo took him in his arms once more, nuzzling his hair, his throat, until Boromir could breath again. “We really _should_ bathe, you know,” Théo murmured.

It was the warmth and comfort of the huge oaken tub that finally enabled Boromir to relax enough to tell the whole tale: the shared, recurrent dreams; the prophecy; the thinly veiled hope for succor for Gondor. Théo's questions served to underscore certain points, allowing Boromir to reconsider, to clarify some questions in his own mind. 

“We sons of Éorl have no tales of elvish strongholds, at least that I can recall. Dwarves, and dragons, and vague stories of _holbytla_ , small people living far to the north. Perhaps the Elves were too fine for us, ragged horsemen that we were in those days! And have not changed all that much.” Theo, drying off, ducked as Boromir laughingly splashed him. “Still, I think I should ride with you, up past the fords of Isen, to Dol Baran at least. Things _seem_ quiet, but I've heard tales of mischief in the Wizard's Vale – I'd like to take a look for myself before I bring it up in council. The Worm has enough ways of making me look a fool, damn him; there's no need to hand him another.”

“I would welcome your company, though I would never have presumed to ask. Well I knew the duties and responsibilities of a Marshal of the Mark. Yet, if you are offering, I would be a fool to refuse...”

“I know your father raised no fools, nor did mine. We shall leave tomorrow, as you wish, for time is of the essence. For now, though, bread and cheese, and at least a short nap, else you'll disgrace yourself falling asleep at dinner in the Hall.” Théo tossed him the drying-cloth, and Boromir preened a bit under his appreciative gaze.

“At Éowyn's party, and without squiring her in a single dance? I would never live it down. I'll confess, though, a nap does sound very appealing. Would you....”

“...come along, and tuck you in? With pleasure, my friend.”

***

Yet their high-spirited preparations for departure the next morning were interrupted by the breathless arrival of a group of riders, horses lathered and trembling, escorting a heavily laden courier. But when Boromir looked more closely, he saw that it was not a courier at all but a young girl, no more than fourteen, hair disheveled and clothing torn, her face bloody and tear-stained. What he took to be bundles were actually two small children, tied securely to their sister with a ragged hempen cord. Passers-by rushed to her aid, gently handing the children into waiting arms, while one of the accompanying riders rushed to Théodred.

“She is from the East Emnet. Her village was attacked, she said, by a large party of orcs and men. They slaughtered the villagers and their livestock, and put the buildings to the torch, but neither looted nor took prisoners.” The rider was very young himself, his beard wispy in his pale face, yet his voice did not quaver as he gave his report. 

Théodred's face was grim. “Bregdan, Feotan, assemble your men. We will ride at once. Boromir -” he turned; Boromir sucked in his breath at the fierce resoluteness, the controlled fury in his glance. “ I am sorry, my friend, but this aggression, this invasion, can not go unavenged. I wish -”

“No, no, of course you must go. Duty, always, above all things; innocent blood cries out for justice. I only wish I could go with you.” Boromir pulled him close, screened by his horse from onlookers. Forehead to forehead, he whispered, “ May the Valar keep you safe, dear friend.”

Théodred lips brushed his gently; this would have to suffice. “And you as well. _Westu hal,_ dear one, until we meet again.”

Boromir watched for a long time, then turned his mount and headed north.


	2. Last Words

**Last Words** , by just_ann_now

 

“Have you enough provisions? We could easily send a pack pony with you. Harvest was good; we have plenty to spare.”

“You worry over me like an old hen! I’m not so lacking in skill that I can’t snare a coney for my supper.”

“You’re right, of course; I forget myself, Boromir the Bold! Stop here on your way back. Have Éowyn send word; I will meet you, and we will ride together for a time.”

“That I will. A few months, and I will be back.” 

Théodred watches for a long time; then turns his mount and rides east.


	3. Asunder

**Portent** , by Edoraslass

 

“Where are we?” There was a panicked note to Boromir’s voice. 

“Very near Parth Galen,” Aragorn answered, voice low so as not to wake the others. “What is wrong?”

Boromir swallowed, threw a glance into the woods. “I saw -- I saw one of the Rohirrim.”

“Here? That is very unlikely.” A terrible thought struck Aragorn. “Did you -- recognize him?”

“Yes.” Boromir’s reply was nearly inaudible, his eyes downcast.

“Are you certain?” Aragorn asked softly.

Boromir nodded. “Yes,” he repeated, and his voice broke, making Aragorn wince. “I know his face, and I saw him clearly. It was Théodred.”


	4. Returned

**Returned** , by Edoraslass

Théodred sees his cousin leading a familiar horse toward the stables, and smiles in surprise. “Éomer!” he calls. “Boromir is already at the bathhouse, I expect?”

Éomer stops, and there is uncharacteristic hesitancy in his young cousin’s posture. “Éomer?” Unease touches Théodred’s spine. “Is this not the horse we lent hm?”

Éomer meets Théodred’s gaze;Théodred’s stomach lurches at the trepidation in the younger man’s eyes. “Yes,” Éomer admits slowly, “this is the horse we lent Lord Boromir.” 

Théodred’s chest has tightened so that he can hardly speak the question. “Where is Boromir?” 

The expression on Éomer’s face is answer enough.


	5. Snowfall

**Snowfall** , by just_ann_now

 

Branches sagged under the weight of wet snow; Boromir had not expected to encounter bad weather in the mountains so early. _Widowmakers_ , he thought wryly, hearing another bough crash to the ground as he fashioned a rough shelter. He'd leave no widow to mourn, only Faramir and Denethor. Perhaps one other might feel a pang of loss when word ever reached him. 

Yet it was not in Boromir to be maudlin. Pillowing his head on his pack he let his mind drift: another night, another fire, the scent of pine beneath their bedrolls, the warmth of the man beside him.


	6. The Cup

**The Cup** , by just_ann_now

“Six weeks ago? _Six weeks?_ ” 

“Not even our swiftest messengers could have reached you in time. He stayed here just the one night; we lent him your mare, Windan. He left you a note…”

> _Would that I could wait, but I dare not tarry. If all goes well, I will return with hope renewed; if not, then know that the hours we spent together were among my happiest memories. Westu hal, dear friend, until we meet again._

~*~

For hours Théodred sat alone, head bowed, food and drink untouched.

“Shouldn’t we….?” 

“No,” Eomer murmured. “This cup of bitterness is his alone.”


	7. Fireside Chat

**Fireside Chat** , by just_ann_now

 

It was inevitable, I suppose, that the fireside chatter would turn to lasses. 

Young Meriadoc and Peregrin discoursed for some length on the subject, comparing the finer qualities of various young ladies of their acquaintance. Frodo smiled, quite wickedly for one who appeared so innocent, bringing up points that had evidently been forgotten; while Sam blushed and looked away, murmuring to himself. Legolas shook his head, eyes full of laughter; Gandalf merely “harrumphed” in his turn. 

“What about you, Boromir? Surely you have a sweetheart, or even two, back in your city?” 

Though I felt trapped by the question, I could not help but notice the Ranger listening intently, although his attention appeared to be focused on his mending. Several times during the past days I had felt his eyes upon me, that measuring glance; but what he was seeking, I was not sure. Surely he did not find the Captain of the White Tower lacking in any way? Distracted, I fumbled quickly for an answer.

“Two? That’s asking for trouble, quite more than I’m worth, even if I did have time for such things. My duties as Captain-General consume most of my time, affording little opportunity for such pursuits. Gimi, what about you? How many broken hearts did you leave behind?” I breathed a quiet sigh of relief as our companion began to regale his eager listeners with a vivid tale of a dwarf-maid and the peculiar use she made of her beard, leaving the Halflings quite literally speechless.

***

“You did not answer the question.” Aragorn’s voice was soft as he busied himself with spreading out his bedroll. We had gotten into the habit of sleeping some distance apart from the others, away from sleepy chatter and sonorous breathing and that disturbing, unearthly gaze.

“About the sweetheart? If I did have one, I would not dishonor her by discussing her in such light company; and if I did not, why would I want to look the fool by admitting it?”

“Those incorrigible halflings would not think you a fool, but cheerfully give you their considered opinion of which vices and virtues prevent you from having one. Then they will overwhelm you with good advice as to how to correct your deficiencies.” He was laughing, but then his voice softened. “ I _am_ curious, though.”

My first thought was, _What concern is it of yours?_ ; but then suddenly I was bitterly tired of it all, the years of dissembling, of hiding my nature in my own City while yearning for the measure of freedom I had found abroad. If this ranger were indeed destined to be my King, perhaps it would be best that I be honest with him from the beginning. 

“There is no sweetheart. I have never been stirred by a woman in that way, though I have grown skillful at pretense. I know that one day I shall have to marry, but until then, I do not spare them a thought. My desires follow the darker path.” 

His eyes grew wide, but then he nodded thoughtfully. “I appreciate your honesty. Such things are not unheard of; I am sorry that it causes you pain. Do you…” He seemed to hesitate, just for a moment. “Do you have a particular companion? Forgive me – it must seem strange to discuss such a thing…”

“It _is_ strange. I don’t know that I have ever spoken of this matter so openly. Yes, there is someone, a warrior noble and proud, one of the finest men I have ever known. But we are forced by circumstances to live apart, meeting most often by chance or luck. I saw him briefly, last summer, but before that, it had been four years since we last were together.”

“Four years! That must be…difficult.” His voice was still soft, conversational, yet in his eyes I caught, just for a moment, that brief flicker I had oft seen in other men’s eyes. _So._

“It is, but somehow differently, now, than it once was. When we…when we began our association, we agreed not to hold ourselves only to each other. Are we not men, with men’s needs?” The ranger nodded, his eyes dark, but he did not speak. “We have each taken our pleasure as we could . Yet I have found that as the years have gone by, it is not so much the physical act, but his company, his wisdom and understanding and good nature that I miss. It is difficult to find true friends, companions of both the heart and the mind in this world, those you can trust enough to reveal your innermost self. Have you not found it so?”

“I have; indeed, such companions are rare blessings, even more precious when they appear unlooked-for.” Then he startled me by reaching out quickly to grip my shoulder. A brief touch, yet I remember it as I remember the first time Théodred touched me, a touch that burned. Nodding his goodnight, Aragorn turned away; but I lay a long time, sleepless.


	8. Enticements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “ ‘…almost I should have said that she was tempting us, and offering what she pretended to have the power to give. It need not be said that I refused to listen. The men of Minas Tirith are true to their word.’ But what he thought that the Lady had offered him Boromir did not tell.” 
> 
> _The Fellowship of the Ring_ Book Two, Chapter VII: “The Mirror of Galadriel”

**Enticements** , by just_ann_now

 

Long and deeply she gazes at me, as if she were intent on capturing my very soul; I try to turn her thoughts away but I am as helpless as a rabbit under that unwavering stare. Yet images begin to flow into my mind; I can not tell if they are creations of hers, or my own memories, or even desires I have long kept buried. 

I see myself returning to my City with word of all I have seen and done: the Council of Imladris, the Heir of Elendil, the Ringbearer and his quest. “Everything Faramir foresaw is true,” I say urgently to my father, and I see him turn towards my brother with dawning respect in his eyes. “Faramir’s knowledge of history and lore are of greater value to us now. I have seen and understand that it is by stealth and cunning, not feats of arms, that we must seize our fate.” 

“Perhaps you are correct in this, my son,” my father replies slowly. He turns to my brother. “Faramir, you and your Rangers know of secret ways into our enemies' strongholds. Would you show me on our maps, so that we together can plan the assault?” In that moment I feel hope renewed, for the victory and salvation of my City.

I watch them leave, stunned with joy and disbelief, for my father's arm is around my brother's shoulder, a sight I have not seen in nearly thirty years. While I watch, a page tugs at my sleeve, handing me a note; scrawled on the paper is the name of a tavern on the second level, the Rohirric quarter, and a room number. I recognize the handwriting at once, though it has been nearly two years since I have received a letter. I rush to the tavern, clomping up the stairs in my haste, trying to control the thudding of my heart as I knock on the door - 

And Théodred is there, pulling me to him, and then he is in my arms, his lips warm under mine, and ah, the taste of him...

“Why are you here?” I murmur into his ear, later, as we lie entwined, willing our pulses to settle. 

“Why should I not be here with you? It is what we have wanted for so long. Finally I said, 'Enough!' and signed over my birthright to my cousin Éomer, duly witnessed by the Court. I took my horse and tack, and the clothes I was wearing, nothing else. The Worm could scarce contain his joy, but I did not care.” His lips are on my throat, maddening me, and I feel my flesh begin to rise once again. “I have come to pledge my sword to Gondor, and my life to your service. I would gladly act as your manservant, mending your linen and blacking your boots, if that were the only place you had for me.”

I sit up abruptly, nearly breathless with shock. “How can this be possible? The defense of Rohan, left to another...though I would be grateful to have your sword in service to Gondor, how could you have abandoned your people?”

His eyes grow dark; I have seen that anger before. “Abandon? Éomer is a skilled warrior, and the other marshals will support him. How many times have we spoken of how glorious it would be to live and fight side by side, spend our all days and nights together? Is this not what you want?”

What I want? Yes, I have longed for him, selfishly wishing to have him all to myself. In my fantasies we ride together, fast and far, abandoning all responsibilities to sate ourselves in endless pleasure and rogue companionship. But would not my Théo be less than himself, less than the prince and warrior, leader of men, that I have loved all these long years? How could he come to me in this way, without honor, having betrayed the trust of his people to his own selfish ends, and mine? My head aches, spins for a moment...

And then I am back, standing with my companions of the fellowship, breathless and flushed under that unwavering stare. Yet it seems that less than a moment has passed.

How can she see inside me, my most secret desires, and presume to offer such things? She can no more force a reconciliation between my father and brother than she can turn back time; nor can she turn a warrior prince into a craven puppet to lure me. I will not cast aside my honor or the honor of those I love to accept what she pretends to give. The board is set; the pieces are already in play, and nothing can stop them. My father, my brother, Théodred, and I all must move to face whatever doom awaits us. 

Those blue eyes, fathomless as the sea, flicker but for a moment, then her gaze moves on to Pippin, youngest and most earnest of my companions. What temptations will she offer him?


	9. Night Terrors

**Night Terrors** , by just_ann_now

The dream is always the same.

I stand in a river, in the pouring rain. Not the Anduin; something smaller, fast-moving, shallow and rocky – the Isen. Around me the din of battle: weapons clang, horses scream, men curse or moan as they fall.

In my dream I can neither see nor speak; I stagger, trying desperately to reach the one voice I recognize. He shouts warning, encouragement, his voice rings with exhilaration. Then the screech of rasping steel, a gasp, a guttural, triumphant roar – 

The crash of thunder wakes me, heart pounding. Théo sleeps peacefully beside me, hair tousled, smiling.


	10. Rest, In Peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A counterpoint to the previous, "Night Terrors"

**Rest, In Peace** , by just_ann_now

While you are asleep, the lines of care and worry fade, and I see traces of the artless boy you once were. In your sleep you turn, mumble, smile; you never startle or cry out in warning or fear. Here in my bed your dreams are peaceful, as if this is the only place where you truly find rest.

I watch while you sleep, pale moonlight brushing your skin. Outside, the leaves fall, skittering, rustling like dry bones. I shiver at the sound. The world is filled with peril, but for this night at least, I can keep you safe.


	11. Four Voices: Autumn, 3018

**Four Voices: Autumn, 3018** , by just_ann_now

 

There are a few more strands of silver in his dark hair, and he seems to walk stiffly, favoring that leg where he took the Southron blade. His face is more careworn, but when he smiles at me, I can feel my heart stop, just as on that first day.

~*~

His hair flows like golden silk, like honey; and he still moves with that catlike grace, unexpected in such a powerful man. He has changed not a bit: his smile lights up his face, and when I look into his eyes I am lost, just as on that first day.

~*~

They are so beautiful together: bright sun, dark moon. I cannot remember a time when I did not know of what they shared, though when I was young it seemed strange, unfathomable. Now I am a woman, understanding much more; and though I wish them joy, I envy them, too.

Like bright sun, dark moon

Their beauty dazzles, and yet

Their love mystifies.

~*~

I have always worshipped them, for they seem everything a man should be: courageous, loyal, steadfast in their devotion to their land and each other. In dreams, I follow them, until I hear an unfamiliar voice calling my name. They look back towards me, smiling, then disappear together into mist. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A birthday gift for Scribendi.


	12. Redeemed

**Redeemed** , by just_ann_now

 

"...and so I am forever cursed, disgraced as forsworn." Boromir ended bleakly.

Théodred was silent for a long moment. "I do not believe it," he finally replied. "What greater gift can we give, than to lay down our lives in defense of the weak?" 

"But the order was to capture, not kill them. My blood was shed for nothing." 

"They did not know that, nor did you. They saw you willing to die for them, and that memory gave them strength for all that came after. Long will you be remembered, not for your fall from grace, but your sacrifice."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the "Falls" challenge at Tolkien_weekly, and in recognition of the day. Originally posted February 25, 2008


	13. A Terrible Beauty

**A Terrible Beauty**

Haunted by a growing sense of unease, I found myself biting my nails, a bad habit which had never before troubled me. Then, one afternoon, I was suddenly stunned breathless by bolts of agonizing pain. I reeled, vomited, wept; but then could only wait, composing myself for what was to come. I knew what had happened.

The mournful cry of the loon drew me to the river. I saw the drifting boat, bathed in an unearthly light; within, my brother lay as if asleep. In his beloved face, a terrible beauty, yet he seemed more peaceful than ever in life.


End file.
